by Irina Argo
He rushed to his apartment, into his bathroom, slamming the shower door closed. Blindly he reached for the faucets and turned on the cold water, praying that an icy shower would restore him to his numbness. Leaning his head back, he began swallowing great gulps of water; then, soaking wet, he got out of the shower, pulled off his clothes and dried himself with the towel. He wiped his face several times.
Why was it still wet, dammit? No! He was not crying.
Chapter 68
Anock wrapped the towel around his hips and walked to the living room of his apartment. He pushed the window open and filled his lungs with the bracing night air. He had an hour, maybe two before Crian finished his rendezvous.
He clasped his hands behind his back, watched snowflakes drift to the ground and disappear. Every snowflake reflected Cara’s face: her eyes, her lips, her glorious hair ... Anock extended his hand and one of the flakes landed on his open palm, then instantly melted, leaving no trace, not even a hint of moisture. If only it could be that easy to erase Cara from his memory. Was she going to haunt him for the rest of his life?
It had been only three days since he’d last seen her; but it felt like an eternity. He hadn’t even called Ken; he dreaded hearing confirmation that Ken had followed through with his request and Cara was back in the cell. She had bloomed like a flower when she lived with him. What would happen to her back in that underground world without sunlight and fresh air? What happens to flowers in the darkness?
Come on, Anock. Say it. She will die.
You’re killing her.
Shut up, he told the voice in his head.
He was happy for the distraction when the door swung open. Crian strutted like a peacock to a large leather armchair and draped himself on it. He reminded Anock of their Bengal cat after a heavy feast: satiated and content. It was disgusting.
“Okay, my friend.” Crian purred. “Pour me a glass of that cognac and I’m all yours.”
Anock walked to the wet bar and poured Crian and himself drinks, dropping several cubes of ice in each glass. As he watched the cubes collide under the surface, then bob back up again, he tried to pull himself back together, called on his rational self.
“So, Crian, how long have you been blood-bonded?”
“Eight hundred years.”
Anock almost dropped his glass.
“Eight hundred years! Are you telling me she’s been living in hiding all this time?”
“Not all. There was a time when we lived together.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not going there.”
“Sorry.” The topic was obviously painful for Crian, but it was unprecedented that a true blood-bond refused to live with their mate. Anock was curious. “Now that her secret’s revealed, do you still plan to live apart?”
“She won’t live with me unless I stop hunting Amiti. I told her I’ll stop as soon as I find and kill Serena, my enemy. But honestly, I have no intention of quitting. What would I do? Live peacefully with my mate, watching TV and going to baseball games on weekends? I’d die of boredom. This work excites me. The rush of the hunt, the feeling of ownership and power over other immortals. I thrive on being an Amiti’s master. I want to move it to the next level: I want to find a way to transform the Amiti species so they’ll accept vampires as their masters. They’ll never even think of freedom; it’ll be a given that they are our bloodstock, that it’s their natural state of being. Then we won’t need to keep them in cells. They can live among us like pets and serve our needs. We’ll have the perfect setup: we’ll be able to enjoy their beauty and their blood without all this anxiety about being blood-bonded. It will resolve so many problems. And at the very least, it’ll remove the sense of guilt some of us feel.” He glanced significantly at Anock as if the last sentence was about him, as if he could see through Anock
The cold air in the room had finally gotten to him, so Anock excused himself to go get dressed. He had to admit, Crian’s confession excited him. It would resolve their major problem. And wouldn’t it be a win-win situation? Amiti would have enjoyable lives, be provided for by vampires, and in return vampires would get blood—and lovers—without blood-bonding. Sure, Amiti would have to sacrifice their powers: donating blood would weaken them, but that was a small price to pay in exchange for freedom. It was ideal, really. Free bloodstock—beautiful, gentle, vulnerable. Like Cara. In spite of all the controversy and inner conflict he experienced, he loved seeing her like that. Part of him—a big part—relished having control over her, seeing her powerless and totally obedient to him.
“I’m sure the majority of Sekhmi will support your idea, Crian. We’re not monsters, and having free bloodstock makes us pretty nice guys in our own eyes. But first things first—”
“I know. The Keepers.”
“And the Oracle’s prophesy.” Anock picked up a remote control from the side table and pushed a button. The fifty-two-inch monitor on the wall lit up and Theores and Leon appeared on the screen.
Theores waved to Crian and Anock. “How are you, my friends? Tor will be with us in a few minutes.”
They waited for about ten minutes, catching up, before Tor appeared on the screen and took his seat, looking exhausted and withdrawn.
“Thank you for joining us, Crian.”
“My pleasure.”
“My understanding is that Oberon refused to talk and we have no way to convince him to do so.”
“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, the leverage Crian was talking about, Oberon’s sister Desiree, will not work. Oberon knows that she is Crian’s blood-bond.” He left out the fact that he couldn’t bear to execute more bloodstock after what had happened.
“I have an alternative plan.” Theores spoke. “All of you know that the Keepers can locate each other, but to do this they must be at their full power. Simone is still a Keeper in quest. We need to help Simone earn her Keeper’s powers so she can find the others for us. Keepers must pass trials—they call them Keepers’ quests. To claim her powers as Keeper of the Mystery of Life, Simone has to perform three life-affirming deeds. I’ll bet she’s done at least one, and that’s how Oberon managed to locate her.”
“So we need to come up with one or two more for her,” concluded Anock. “Does the princess know where Arianna is?”
“No, she doesn’t. Nobody told her.”
“Can you make sure she finds out?”
“You want to give Simone a chance to free Arianna,” concluded Theores.
“Yes, and I’m sure she’ll try. Arianna is her sister.”
“I assume she doesn’t need to succeed; it’s the attempt that counts, correct?” Tor interjected, his voice brittle. “We’ll let her do it and believe she has succeeded. It’ll make her feel better about herself.”
“And the next step will be Oberon.” Crian interjected. “I’ll ask my mother to lift the shield long enough for Simone to sense him. Surely, she’ll try to free him as well.”
“And she’ll succeed. Almost.” Anock could hardly restrain his excitement. “And once she completes her quest, she’ll give us the locations of the remaining Keepers. If she hesitates, we know how to convince her.”
“I think that for a project of this significance, we must secure the Lioness’s support.” Theores leaned back in her chair. “We must make a sacrifice to the Goddess.”
“Good thinking,” Crian nodded in agreement. “Shall we each contribute a bloodstock for the ritual? That will give us three: one from the hunters, one from the Royal pride, and one from the Guardians.”
Anock’s heart began to race. “How do we choose bloodstock for the sacrifice?”
“A random pool, as usual. It’s the Goddess’s choice.”
“Who will do it?” He was terrified that they’d ask him.
“Our priestess, Riona. She’s in Monaco right now. I’ll send a jet for her.”
They scheduled the ritual in two days. Then the Royal pride disconnected and Crian left.
>
Anock walked to the wall and pushed a concealed button. A panel on the wall glided soundlessly aside revealing Anock’s weapons collection. He grabbed one of his favorite daggers and sliced his left palm, cutting deep, down to the bone. Why the hell did it not hurt? It should. But the only effect it had was to spill blood across the Persian rug he stood on, ruining it forever.
The voice in his head grew louder.
There are five bloodstock in the Royal pride. That’s one out of five chances that Cara will be chosen for the sacrifice. What are you going to do about it, bastard?
If I call Ken and ask him to bring Cara back, he’ll lose all respect for me.
Yeah, right, as if you care.
Leave me alone. The decision has been made. If Sekhmet chooses Cara, so be it. It will be for the better. At least then she’ll leave me alone, stop invading me, confounding me ...
He sliced into his palm once again and watched how quickly his injury closed up, new tissue forming almost immediately. Within a few short minutes the only mark on his palm was a thin pink line, and then even that disappeared. Why couldn’t the scar on his heart heal like that? Why, dammit, wouldn’t it stop bleeding?
Goddess, where did I make my mistake? How could everything have gone so wrong? He swallowed the knot in his throat. His soul was screaming her name. Cara, Cara, Cara ...
Chapter 69
“Riona’s here in Brussels.” Erec burst into the room and stopped abruptly in front of Zlata, blocking the TV screen. He was drenched in sweat and wearing only exercise shorts. The priestess’s visit had to be quite an event, Zlata thought; Erec never interrupted his daily workout routine.
He pulled at the towel from his shoulders and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Well, kid, get ready for the show.”
“Show?” Zlata raised her eyes to meet his. She tried to be quiet and fade into the background around Erec. She had no doubt that she irritated him. He obviously resented having to stay with her in the hotel and babysit. Today it was his turn, while Serena and Kassi were out shopping and looking for Sekhmi to seduce.
The four of them had stopped in Brussels on their way to New York and rented an apartment in one of the city’s modest hotels. Zlata was thrilled; after a year of confinement in the human research lab she was finally free and among Amiti friends. These Amiti were powerful elders who could shield and shift and do things that absolutely blew Zlata away. She adored both Serena and Kassi—they were so kind to her—but for some reason Erec just filled her with a vague sense of dread.
“The bitch came to perform a ritual,” Erec continued, venom dripping from his voice. “They’re going to sacrifice another three of ours.”
“Erec!” She leapt from the couch. “What are we going to do?”
“Just follow the plan. Now sit back and enjoy. I’ll be teaching you some useful tricks on the way.” Erec disappeared into the bathroom and soon Zlata heard the sound of running water. A few minutes later he reemerged, fresh and drop-dead sexy, his thick, wet auburn hair combed straight back.
“Lesson number one, kid: always look sexy. Vampires are all about sex, and you’ll attract them as much with your butt as with your blood.” As he spoke, he strolled into his bedroom. Just beyond the doorway he dropped the towel from his hips so Zlata could appreciate his toned buttocks. Well, yeah, he might be right—at least with that butt. He returned wearing blue jeans and a black turtleneck. But even in these unpretentious clothes, he looked more than provocative.
“Lesson number two. The technique is called the call.” He dropped his graceful body onto the couch next to Zlata and stretched a hand to her shoulder. “I’m dropping my shield and focusing on my blood-bond, calling her and letting her know that I’m in deadly danger.” His pupils narrowed and his eyes, yellow like a wolf’s, glazed over as his whole awareness drew inward.
“What if she won’t come?”
Erec’s sensual lips spread in an enigmatic smile. “She will, kid. Nobody can resist the call of the blood-bond.”
“How did you blood-bond to her?”
“Easy, the same as I always blood-bond with any Elite female. Or male,” he added, and grinned. “She fell in love with me. It must be because I’m soooo irresistible.”
Erec was beyond irresistible. His beauty was that of a wild beast daring to be tamed. Females were hypnotized by him like cobras by a snake charmer.
There was a light tapping on the door.
“Come in, Riona. I’m here.”
The door pushed open and the scent of extravagant perfume filled the room. An elegant slender female in an outrageously decadent fur coat—was that chinchilla? Zlata had only ever seen it on chinchillas—threw herself at Erec. “Erec! What happened? You’re alive. Thank the Goddess. You scared me.”
“Riona.” Erec caught her mouth with his, closing the door with his boot, and then breaking the kiss he said, “I missed you too, darling. Thank you for coming.”
The next moment Riona’s lids opened wide and she tumbled to the floor, clutching at a glass dressing table and taking it crashing down with her. Her skin began turning red, then purple, and erupting with large, bulbous blisters that bubbled and burst open, draining over her exposed flesh. Her face crackled and the smell of burning tissue filled the room.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream; huge eyes locked with Eric’s in terrified understanding, reflecting the agony of betrayal and a broken heart. Erec stood propped against the wall with his arms across his chest, his face expressionless.
“Erec, stop it! She’s in pain!” Zlata yelled.
“Of course she is. When you burn your blood-bond, kid, you always have to remember their victims. How do you think her victims felt when they were on the altar having their hearts cut out?” He leaned over Riona; his words were for her ears.
Riona only squeezed her lids tight, unable to endure the torture, blood and tears pouring from beneath her burned eyelashes.
“Stop it!” Zlata shrieked again, grabbing at Erec to pull him away from Riona. Annoyed, Erec pushed her away.
Zlata yanked a fire extinguisher off of the wall at the entrance to their apartment and smashed it against Erec’s head. Erec’s eyes rolled back into his head and he crashed to the floor.
Zlata knelt next to Riona and lifted her head. It was a bleeding, burning mess, totally unrecognizable as the once well-sculpted, classical face of Sekhmet’s high priestess. Zlata forced her wrist to Riona’s mouth. “Drink. Fast.”
The priestess clenched Zlata’s hand, and her fangs ripped into the Amiti’s flesh. She sucked greedily, pulling the blood from Zlata faster than she could swallow it, choking on it. When Riona’s flesh stopped burning, Zlata withdrew her hand and stood up, trying to pull Riona to her feet. “Get up. We need to get out of here.”
Riona tried to stand but she was like a newborn deer, her legs spreading apart and buckling. “I can’t.”
“I’ll help you.” Zlata focused on her blood cells in Riona’s body, charging them to stop the pain and expedite the healing. The ugly blisters on the priestess’s face began falling off, revealing new pink tissue.
“Get up now. Hurry; you can walk.” Zlata pulled her up, supporting her with a hand around her waist, and kicked the door open. She grabbed her jacket and a scarf from the closet by the door and walked Riona down the hall to the elevator.
Once they were inside, Zlata leaned against the wall, her mind muddled. This was the same priestess who, if Odji hadn’t interfered, would have butchered her on the Sekhmet’s altar a year ago.
The elevator stopped. Zlata wrapped her scarf like a hood around Riona’s head to conceal her still gruesome face, put her hand back around Riona’s waist, and slowly proceeded with her through the lobby to the front door. She flagged one of the taxis parked at the curb and they got into the back seat.
“Where should we go?” she asked the shivering Sekhmi. Riona gave her an address, which Zlata recognized as Guardian headquarters. Serena had
made her memorize it, explaining that it was one of the Sekhmis’ primary nests. A gazelle was heading into lions’ territory.
“Here we are,” the taxi driver announced as he pulled up to iron gates emblazoned with two shields depicting standing lions in a swordfight.
Two huge, intimidating Sekhmi promptly approached them. Recognizing Riona, they opened the door for her. After a brief discussion, one of them made a phone call while the other walked with Riona over to Zlata’s side of the taxi.
“Get out, girl.” Riona opened the taxi door for her. “You’re my blood-bond. I can’t let you leave; they’ll kill you.”
Zlata allowed Riona to pull her out of the taxi and, with her brain feeling like scrambled eggs, watched the gates open and four more vampires appear. One of the vamps fixed his eyes on the taxi driver, obviously working his vampire mojo. Another one, who had long, shimmering white hair and ghostly pale purple eyes, approached Zlata. “Surprise, surprise.”
He was incredibly spooky, the kind of person whose aura could haunt you forever even if you only met them once. Zlata recalled that he was the Alpha of the Hunter pride; she’d first seen him in Venezuela where she was held prisoner before they decided to sacrifice her. Her courage disconnected itself from her body and leaped into the nearest bushes.
“It’s the girl we lost a year ago. How could anyone ever forget this hair?” The white-haired vampire picked up a lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. Then, addressing Riona, he asked, “How did you capture her?”
“I didn’t,” Riona answered, moving to stand next to her. Was she protecting her? “This Amiti girl saved my life.”
She removed the scarf, exposing her face. It was in the final stages of healing, but traces of the burns were still visible. All of the vampires, including the white-haired one and the jaw-droppingly beautiful one with the sexy obsidian hair and angel-blue eyes, stared at her in stunned silence, understanding everything without any words being spoken.
Zlata took advantage of the moment. “Well, I guess I’ll be going now. Riona, it looks like you’re safe here.” She took an unsteady step away from the group toward the road leading to the city, but one of the vampires appeared behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Why in such a rush, kitten?”
